


Birth of an Avenger

by MoonliteDelight



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Owain's father is kept ambigious, Risen, as well as Lucina's mother, blood tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonliteDelight/pseuds/MoonliteDelight
Summary: "His father was no longer running; he was just standing there, staring at Owain. Owain swallowed, confused at the sudden stop. “F-Father…?”It took the boy a few moments to notice the arrow sticking out of the man’s chest. "One-shot of Owain's parents and how they died, based on a presentation I posted on Tumblr





	Birth of an Avenger

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based on the presentation I did/the story in Owain and Cynthia's supports  
> Here's the powerpoint: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1u0HxzRT2jte626lSvK_MyNhxaxwOpoAHHXokXT08fuI/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Warning: This get's really sad. Like REALLY sad. Also sorry if anyone seems out of character, I'm still getting used to writing for FE:A characters
> 
> Also note: I refer to Lucina as the exalt here because after Chrom and her mother died, she was likely made the Exalt, similar to how Emmeryn was, at a young age.

Owain ran after his father, the sword he received for his 14th birthday clutched tightly in his hand. Growls emanated from the forest around him accompanied by bright, red eyes glaring from the darkness.

 

It was barely past noon, but ever since Grima’s rise to power, the world appeared much darker than it previously did. Or so he was told. Owain was too young at the time for his present self to remember what blue skies and a bright sun looked like. Now, dark clouds hugged the horizon at all times. The few remaining trees in the land were dead or dying, giving little shelter to the prince as he ran.

 

“We’re almost there!” His father shouted. Owain looked ahead, but could see nothing but more trees and dead grass. Nothing indicated the sanctuary his father was believing was near. Nevertheless, Owain pushed his legs to continue running. Stopping here meant death. 

 

Suddenly, Owain could feel himself be pushed and he tripped, falling to the ground with his sword skittering across the ground to rest a few feet away. Owain quickly pulling himself to his feet, turning around to spot what had pushed him.

 

He wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of him.

 

His father was no longer running; he was just standing there, staring at Owain. Owain swallowed, confused at the sudden stop. “F-Father…?”

 

It took the boy a few moments to notice the arrow sticking out of the man’s chest. 

 

His eyes widened as his father started to fall forward, stepping back when he collided with the ground with what Owain believed to be the loudest ‘thud!’ he had ever heard. Owain stood for a moment in shock before racing forward and kneeling next to the man.

 

Owain started shaking him, ignoring the blood that soaked his back and the arrow embedded in his back. “F-father! Father, you have to get up! Y-you have to…”

 

Owain stilled, hands pressing on his father’s back for another moment. His father wasn’t moving. Owain couldn’t feel him breathing. He wasn’t getting up, no matter how much the prince wanted him to. 

 

He was dead.

“N-no...No! NO, NO, NO! FATHER! YOU CAN’T DIE! NO!” Owain resumed his earlier shaking, tears now blurring his vision and rolling down his face as he pleaded for his father to get up. To move. To do  _ anything _ .

 

Remembering some of the work his mother did in the infirmary, Owain took the arrow with both hands and pulled it out, ignoring the sound it made as he did so. Blood flowed more freely from the wound now, but the arrow was out. That’s what mattered. 

 

He rolled his father onto his back and put his hands over the hole where his heart once lay. He had to keep the blood inside, where’s its supposed to be. He had to hold it there until his father woke up and told him what to do next. His sobs grew louder as he waited and waited and waited-

 

A growl from his right stole Owain’s attention. A risen was stumbling towards him, axe at its side. 

 

Owain stilled. He had forgotten about the risen that were chasing them. The ones who separated him and his now-still father from his mother. The ones who caused his stillness in the first place. The prince looked down at his father, whose eyes were still open, cast at the sky as if admiring the clouds.

 

The boy removed his hands from his father’s chest and moved towards his head. He shut the man’s eyes, just as he had seen his mother do sometimes when it was too late. He brushed some of the hair out of the man’s face, the color they both shared now smeared with the blood on his hands as he did so. Owain stared at the face of his father, memorizing the details.

 

Then the boy stood. And walked over to where his sword lay. He picked it up with a growing anger in his heart. 

 

He would get his revenge on these monsters, even if it was the last thing he did.

 

\-----------

 

Time blurred after that moment. 

 

Owain could remember bits and pieces of what happened: the first slice he made at the approaching risen, the ground soaked with blood after defeating a wave of them, walking forwards with his sword dragging on the ground in search of more enemies, and the screams of the people inhabiting a village he came upon.

 

He couldn’t remember how he got there, just that at some point in his anger, the ground was soaked with both the blood of the risen and the fresh blood of the villagers. Anything that moved was slain, no matter who or what they were. 

 

The prince could feel the blood and viscera on him, staining his clothes and sword. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was no point anymore. How could there be, when his father would never laugh or smile again?

 

Eventually, Owain heard a scream of his name: “Owain!”

 

He stopped for a moment, blade halted mid swing at a Risen, and felt clarity for the first time since the beginning of his rampage. He knew that voice, but who was it? He started to look around, looking for a familiar face among the carnage around him. 

 

Pain along his back brought his rage back, however. The Risen, taking the opportunity Owain had presented, had brought its own blade down the prince’s back. With a feral growl, Owain turned back to the fighting, slicing at everything in his way. And then slicing at the fallen bodies when everything stopped moving.

 

He ignored the voice as it continued to shout, “Owain! Please, stop! They’re gone!”

 

He sliced. And sliced. And sliced. They would pay. They would pay for what they did-!

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Owain spotted movement again. Without thinking he sliced, drawing his sword in an arc and hitting-

 

Owain froze, stilling his sword.

 

His mother stood before him. The same one he’d been separated from what seemed like years ago, but was barely a few hours ago.

 

There was a slice through her dress, spilling red onto her front as he stared in horror. 

 

He dropped his sword and raced forward to catch her as she started to fall. The blood on her front mixed with the blood on his clothes, further staining the fabric. She panted, clearly in pain from her own son’s attack.

Shame and regret mixed with the horror he felt at his actions, driving out the remaining anger he held. His mother looked up at him, smiling despite the pain. Despite what he did-!

 

He hiccuped, tears flowing once more as he started to sob. “M-mother-!”

 

She raised her hand and cupped his cheek, silencing him. “I-it’s alright, Owain...I-I…” She took a shaky breath. “I-I forgive...you...T-this wasn’t...your faul…”

 

Her hand fell as the pain overtook her. Owain could only watch in horror as her breaths become more and more shallow until they stop entirely. 

 

Owain didn’t cry again. He stared at his mother for a long time, looking at her face as if waiting for her to wake up again. To tell him it wasn’t real.

 

His whole world was gone. His parents dead, one by his hand. The villagers, fearful of his wrath and unsure if he was a Risen or simply a madman, had barred their doors from him. 

 

How could he return home now? He had killed his own mother. He committed terrible acts several times in the past hour…

 

Owain stood, laying his mother gently on the ground. He looked around at the carnage he caused; the bodies that littered the ground. And came to a decision, a realization:

 

His world wasn’t gone.

 

This was just a game.

 

He was just playing Justice Cabal again. He wasn’t Owain, Prince of Ylisse, he was Owain Dark! And this…

 

This was merely his origin story!

 

Nothing more than a stage play! He didn’t do anything, it was his character! He was pretending for the sake of drama!

 

Owain picked up the staff that laid next to his mother, split in half from his strike, and took the smallest piece he could. A reminder of the sacrifice this heroine had given! 

Owain smiled, his grin manic, as he started towards Ylisse. He had so many ideas! Owain Dark was reborn now, not just as the member of the Justice Cabal, but as Owain Dark, Avenging Avenger of Justice!

 

Sword abandoned and staff piece in his pocket, Owain Dark started his quest to return home to his remaining family. 

 

His world wasn’t gone…

 

Now that he made a new one.

  
  


\-----------

 

Lucina, just over 16 years old, was sparring with Frederick when the messenger came. 

 

“Milady! Sir Frederick! I carry an urgent message from the gates!” Frederick and Lucina lowered their weapons, sharing a wary glance for a moment.

 

“Yes? What is it? Has the princess and her husband returned?” Frederick questioned. It made sense to Lucina: Aunt Lissa, Owain, and her uncle had left to visit Maribelle and check on her province a few weeks ago. They were due back any day now. 

 

“No, Sir. B-but we believe the prince has.” Frederick straightened, eyes wide as he set aside his training lance.

 

“What do you mean, you believe?” the man questioned, glaring at the messenger as Lucina put her own weapon away.

 

“W-well, sir, he fits the prince’s description, but he’s alone and covered in blood. He keep babbling about an ‘avenger’ and a ‘heroine’, but we can’t make sense of anything he says.” Lucina shared another concerned glance with Frederick before she ran past the messenger, heading for the main gates to the palace.

 

Stories of their parents’ death were common amongst her friends now. She had lost her own parents years ago, her father when she was 5 and her mother soon after, but Lissa and her husband had been one of the few remaining Shepherds. And if Owain had shown up alone at the palace gates…

 

Lucina could hear Frederick just behind her as they ran. After a minute that felt much too long, they arrived at the gates. Several guards were posted, keeping watch over the newcomer that had stumbled in, but not letting him any further until he was positively identified.

 

The stench of blood hit her nose, causing the girl to gag slightly as she covered her nose. Coming closer, she gasped at the sight of her cousin.

 

He was covered in blood, some of it clearly Risen blood but Lucina couldn’t tell if the rest was his or someone else’s. His clothes were in tatters, several spots cut but it was difficult to tell if he was injured. Worst of all was his stature: he was hunched over, wringing and rubbing his hands, as he babbled all sorts of nonsense, just as the messenger said. 

 

Had Lucina not known her cousin as well as she did, she would’ve said it was not him. But his hair, the parts untouched by blood, was the right color and his face was easily recognizable. The exalt gave a nod to the guards, who backed away to let her get to her cousin. 

 

“Owain…?” Lucina prompted, edging close to him, cautious in case he intended to attack.

 

He suddenly surged forward, causing Lucina to cry out in shock, and put his hands on her shoulders, looking up at her with a manic expression. “Lucina! My dear cousin! How does the day fare you?”

 

Lucina blinked at him, shock quickly being replaced with concern as she stared at a face she’d known for years now contorted with mania. She made a motion to Frederick, prompting him to drop his lance, and answered back, “I-it’s been alright...Owain, are you okay? Where is Aunt Lissa?”

 

Owain’s expression clouded for a moment, eyes losing their focus, before he brightened up again. “I am well, cousin! I vanquished many foes in vengeance of my heroic mother and father! My blade was worked so hard, it split in half!”

 

“Split in half? Owain, I believe you need to rest for a few moments. You seem...different,” Lucina said, concern filling her voice. “Perhaps we should take you to the infirmary, just to be sure.”

 

“No!” Owain shouted, shocking Lucina. “The infirmary is my mother’s domain! To taint it with my presence would be an injustice of the highest order!”

 

“I...what?” The exalt blinked, staring at Owain. She shook her head. “No, Owain you need to see a healer. You could be hurt and not realize it.”

 

Owain shook his head. “Nay! My endurance surpasses even the greatest of heroes! I could take a thousand wounds and never…” He paused, clutching Lucina’s shoulders harder. “A-and never...fall…”

 

Suddenly he collapsed against Lucina, who cried out in shock. She could hardly hear Frederick calling for a healer as she looked at her cousin. 

 

He was different. Something about his parents death changed him, more so than the rest of her friends and family. 

 

She could only hope that he would one day recover from it. 


End file.
